It is not nothing, to change the manner of a person’s death from lonely to loved.

It may be one of the truest things one person can do for another.

One afternoon I brought him a cup of chamomile tea and sat in the chair beside his, and we watched Caleb and Barnaby tumble together on the lawn below.

“He runs so fast now,” Arthur murmured, and there was a wonder in his voice, as though he too could scarcely believe it.

“Thanks to you, Arthur,” I said, and I leaned over and kissed his papery cheek.